A cured monster paw dangled from her belt, a battle-scarred reminder of a harrowing fight. Its claws, once weapons of fury, now held a dull, unsettling gleam. A necklace of dagger-like fangs, their tips worn smooth from years of conflict, adorned her chest. Each a chilling whisper of a predator silenced. Her cloak, a midnight black pelt, billowed dramatically around her shoulders, a trophy in itself. Beneath, supple leather armour whispered tales of countless battles, its surface etched with glyphs stained in deep crimson. A small buckler, forged from a single, large spider's carapace, clung to her left arm, a testament to the rabbit ingenuity and the strange beauty of the hunt. In her right hand there was a massive, carved tusk, its tip honed to a deadly point. It resembled a barbaric spear, a symbol of her raw power and the savage grace of the hunt. The trophies sang a bloody tale of fangs, fur, and bone; each piece a hard-won verse in the ballad of the HuntMaster.
Yet, a disarming counterpoint lay cradled in her other hand. Here, not a fang or claw, but a simple, smooth sphere – a MoonStone marble. It pulsed with an otherworldly luminescence, casting an ethereal moonlight glow across her palm. Unlike the trophies that spoke of violence, the marble brought a genuine smile to her face. A childlike wonder softened the usual glint of her otherwise predatory eyes.
At a time, in her arrogance, she hadn't grasped the true significance of these stones, these mysterious orbs and their true meaning. That was, until Master X began bestowing them as gifts. Initially, she'd received it with the same stoic pride as any other token of victory. But with the weight of its meaning settling upon her, understanding dawned.
A MoonStone wasn't just a trophy; it was a signet ring of honour. Possession of one signified the Master's favour, a distinction coveted by all. It held a power beyond simple beauty, it became a currency that could buy loyalty or influence. Rabbits, those wily traders, would barter their most prized possessions for a single moon-like marble. Yet, the very thought of trading this simple marble, this unexpected source of such pure joy, was unthinkable. It was a paradox – a treasure unlike any other, a symbol of power that held its true value in the childlike wonder it evoked.
The luminescence in the HuntMaster's palm abruptly sputtered out. A young hunter, barely more than a twitchy nose and wide, curious eyes, stood before her. The marble, a bright beacon dispersing the midnight darkness, became an object of desire in the little rabbit's eyes. Her gaze held a mixture of awe and envy, a potent combination for a young sprout.
"HuntMaster," the young one squeaked, barely a whisper, "is it true you can win Master's favour by, by…" she trailed off, gesturing at the handcrafted jewellery in her little paw.
The HuntMaster sighed, a sound like wind rustling through dry leaves. "If it is only the MoonStones you desire, you can indeed make that trade," she admitted, a single nod confirming the unspoken question. But then, a glint entered her eye, and she raised a finger, not in accusation, but in impartation of wisdom. "But remember, my young sprout, some things are earned, not bought."
Confusion clouded the young rabbit's face. Her head tilted at an impossible angle, ears twitching in bewilderment.
"There are some things," the HuntMaster said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "that hold a value beyond trinkets." With a playful flick, she tapped the young one's forehead, eliciting a surprised squeak.
"Ah," the sprout rubbed the sore spot with a grimace, a semblance of understanding dawning. "True favour, it can't be bought." She nodded sagely, perhaps with a touch of fake understanding.
One could almost see the gears turning in the young rabbit's mind. The idea of a bribe, clearly, was still taking root. After all, what good was a hunter without some spoils to offer? And considering her twitchy nose and nervous glances, crafting wasn't exactly her forte.
The HuntMaster, however, seemed to see right through the young one's plans. Her gaze drifted towards the writhing mass in the distance, its bulbous form adorned with a tangled mess of poorly strung necklaces and pendants. A testament to countless hopeful young hunters and eager crafters, all vying for the night-defying glow of his MoonStones. The little rabbit kits craved recognition and attention, in reality, they were just seeking the Master’s favour.
"He's too kind for his own good," the HuntMaster muttered under her breath, whiskers twitching with a mix of amusement and exasperation.
The young sprout, ever curious, tilted her head again, this time towards the writhing mass.
"Can't you see how sluggishly he wriggles?" the HuntMaster prodded, her voice laced with concern. "Look at the droop in his tendrils, the lack of sparkle in his eyes!"
The young one's brow furrowed in concentration. "Huh?" was her less than eloquent reply.
"It's simple, young sprout," the HuntMaster explained, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Our Master, bless his generous soul, has likely run out of shiny pebbles to give away. Yet, foolish rabbits like you, sprouts filled with… well, misguided intentions," she said with a head shake, "you keep pestering him."
The enormity of the situation seemed to finally sink in. The young rabbit's ears drooped like wilted leaves. "Oh…"
"How couldn’t you notice," the HuntMaster continued, pointing a clawed finger towards a massive, moonlit sphere nestled within the protective tentacles, "how much he loves MoonStones? More than any rabbit, I tell you! I remember," her voice took on a nostalgic tone, "how he'd greedily pluck them from the cave walls. Yet, here he is, forced to part with his precious collection, all because you young sprouts…" She clutched her own MoonStone possessively, a fierce glint in her eyes, "just don't know when to stop!"
Fear of the writhing mass catching a glimpse of her rant suddenly gripped the HuntMaster. She clamped her mouth shut mid-sentence, yet her cotton tail still vagged furiously.
"Into formation, now!" she roared, a sudden shift in demeanour, her voice echoing through the den. "We have a Hunt to prepare for!"
Cold moonlight, strong and luminous, washed over the gathering of rabbits. Yet, its brilliance was challenged by a rival light source within the warren. The massive trophy, a glowing boulder held aloft by Master X, pulsed with an otherworldly light that cast the surrounding den in an eerie, blueish hue. Rows upon rows of rabbits, a whole warren of twitching noses and curious eyes, basked in the glowing moonlight.
Above the fleshy mass, tentacles writhed in agitation, mismatched eyes scanning every and each rabbit. Feeling the piercing gaze, young Hunters and Warriors, their fur bristling with nervous energy, thumped their feet and slammed their chests in a military-style greeting.
"Three hundred, ready at your command!" the HuntMaster roared, her voice echoing through the den. Pride, a fierce crimson fire, burned in her eyes.
The tentacles didn't speak, nor did they gesture, they kept the piercing gaze. The mismatched eyes peered so intently that it seemed they were looking deep into the very souls of the rabbits.
Finally, a song of distorted voices rumbled, a sound that sent shivers down even the most seasoned warrior's spine. "Good," it echoed, a chorus of approval. "This should do. Yes! Finally, we can claim the cave and unravel its mysteries!" A single tentacle, thick and muscular, twirled with excitement, the appendage's erratic movement sending ripples of unease through the rabbit ranks.
Another tentacle, this one longer and more deliberate, wrapped tightly around the glowing boulder. The gesture spoke volumes, a blatant display of unspoken greed for more treasure and bounty that surely awaited them.
In response, the rabbits erupted in a thunderous display of support. A coordinated thumping of feet echoed throughout the warren, the sound a primal war drum against the night. With a final, collective turn, the rabbits pivoted as one, their backs now to the village and their gazes fixed on the foreboding depths of the Forbidden Forest. Master X, wriggling at the head of the formation, the massive MoonStone held aloft like a beacon that dwarfed even the cold moon overhead, illuminated their path. Thus began their short march towards the river, a journey that promised them loot and more trophies.
Only a few hops into their journey, a discordant note pierced the otherwise tranquil night. A single, raspy "Caw" echoed from a twisted branch overhanging the path. Moments later, another crow answered, its call laced with a harsh edge. Soon, the chorus grew, the night air filled with a cacophony of harsh caws that morphed into something unsettling – a derisive bark.
The HuntMaster frowned, her red eyes taking a crimson shine. "CarrionCrows," she grumbled, her skill identifying the source of the disturbance.
Master X, however, seemed unfazed. He flicked a tendril dismissively. "RaVeNouS Fowl," he rumbled in his distorted voice, "always leaving their ‘mark’ on my obelisk." He gestured vaguely towards the village they were leaving behind. "Pests, nothing more," he flicked.
The assembled warren pressed onward, their focus on the task at hand. Yet, the cawing persisted, growing in volume and intensity. It began to shift, the anger morphing into a strange, unsettling melody. The crows no longer seemed to be cursing the rabbits or Master X – it was almost as if they were… celebrating?
The treeline ahead erupted in a sudden flurry of movement. Hundreds of dark shapes launched themselves into the night sky, the thunderous whoosh of wings sending shivers down the rabbits' ears. But as the crows surged forward, a curious detail became apparent. They circled at the very edge of the massive MoonStone's glow, their forms flickering in and out of sight as if hesitant to venture into its otherworldly light.
The HuntMaster's ears twitched, a primal instinct tingling against her fur. She skipped a hop, her gaze snapping skyward. Though the darkness masked the details, her DetectMonster skill painted the dark sky with a horrifying image – a pulsating mass of red dots, a thousand strong.
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"So many…" she muttered, a deep frown etching itself onto her brow.
Master X, too, reacted with surprise. A few pesky crows were a daily annoyance at the village, but this? Too many! His writhing mass convulsed in agitation, and a single tentacle lashed out in frustration. The assembled warren watched with bated breath as he turned his attention to the distant sky.
Another rabbit, taller and more muscular than the rest, hopped close to the writhing mass of anxious tendrils. “Don’t worry Master. Those are only lesser monsters, the village will manage,” she patted an agitated tentacle with her paw.
"RabbitGuard is right, Master," the HuntMaster nodded. "After all, those are just CarrionCrows. The village can handle them. Perhaps even gain some easy EXP."
Despite the reassurances from his trusted lieutenants, a sliver of unease remained in his tentacles. After all, a flock of crows was a bad omen. Moreover, they were a special type of a crow…
“Perhaps, they aren't flocking there to vandalise our obelisk…” X mused with a coiling tentacle. “Perhaps…” the tentacle shuddered in fear. “No… But then… CarrionCrows are there for the carrion? Aren’t they?”
The realisation reached the HuntMaster, her jaw tightened, and she clamped her hands into fists. “Are they finally here? Is it time?”
“I fear so…” his tentacles drooped. “The caves and the bounty within will have to wait. We must get ready.”
“Yes Master!” the HuntMaster thumped her chest and turned to command the warren back.
The urgency in the HuntMaster's eyes was undeniable. Just two hops from the riverbank yet the warren was forced to reverse course, the thunderous calls of the crows acting as a morbid drumbeat urging them back to the village. Fueled by an EnergyBurst, they reached it at breakneck speed.
However, the chaos they expected was absent. Instead, they were met by confused stares from the villagers, their stances relaxed, weapons held loosely. "Why are you back so soon?" their expressions seemed to say.
The village, indeed, had reacted promptly. Hunters scurried about, grabbing projectiles to pelt the unwelcome avian visitors. Yet, the crows, a thousand strong though they might be, made no move to descend. They circled overhead, their harsh caws laced with a new meaning – a derisive mockery.
X's suspicions solidified. "The crows aren’t here for a fight," he tentacled, a sinister edge to his flick. His eldritch presence, meant to be an effective deterrent, seemed to only further enrage the crows. Singling him out, In a calculated attack, tiny parcels of hatred rained from above.
"How dare they!" the HuntMaster snarled at the night sky. Turning to a nearby rabbit, her voice crackled with urgency. "Bring Master his parasol, quickly!"
…
The Sanctuary Rod pulsed with a final golden thrum before falling silent. Bathed in its cleaning light, the Hero’s party emerged from the battle revitalised. Cuts and bruises knitted themselves shut, grime vanished from their armour, and the lingering stench of monster viscera evaporated. Still, the blessed rod’s power had its limits. The mutated ClawSquirrel, a grotesque parody of its former nimble form, lay sizzling before them, its monstrous taint too potent for a simple cleansing spell.
"That was a doozy," Khan muttered, his voice shaky from the adrenaline rush that had just subsided. His hands trembled slightly as he fixed back the greatsword to his back.
Del eyed the corpse with a newfound respect. "Only Level 10, was it? A nightmare in disguise. Who knew a simple ClawSquirrel could mutate into such a monstrosity?"
A humourless chuckle escaped Khan. "Simple? That thing was anything but simple. Claws that could rend steel, fur that deflected blows… honestly, it felt like fighting a living, enraged boulder."
Priscilla, the ever-pious healer, wrinkled her nose in disgust. "And the stench! Even my divine weapon couldn't erase that reek of Taboo! Here, let me try again…" She muttered an incantation under her breath, casting another Cleanse spell on her robe. The scent lingered, a stubborn reminder of the battle's savagery.
Across the chamber, Edge stood hunched before the etched wall, his silhouette stark against the flickering light from his LightOrb. His eyes scanned the intricate etchings and faded murals, searching for any hidden knowledge.
"Anything there, Edge?" Holly called out, her voice echoing in the cavernous space.
The Edge turned, his shadowed face unreadable. "Just echoes," he rumbled. "A tale of hubris and ruin, a story told a thousand times before." Disappointment laced his voice.
"Is that all?" Holly sighed, her gaze drawn to the distant sliver of sunlight filtering through the nearby stone doorway. "Then let's not waste another moment here. The Abomination grows stronger with every passing hour."
A flicker of impatience ignited in Edge's eyes. "And how many more of its Minions do we have to slay now, Del?" he questioned, his tone laced with accusation. It was a familiar refrain, a bitter reminder of the relentless nature of their quest.
Del met his gaze with a weary sigh. "Over a thousand," she stated flatly. The weight of their mission pressed heavily on her shoulders. Guiding them through treacherous dungeons and battling monstrous hordes was a thankless task. Taking the safest route meant delays, while shortcuts often led them straight into danger. There was no easy answer, no way to avoid blame, as always, it would end up being her fault…
As if to disperse the souring mood, Holly pointed ahead. "The exit is just around the corner, let's hurry."
"Wait!" Priscilla screeched, forcing everyone to slam on the brakes. "I knew something reeked. I knew it! What is that? That thing!" Her finger stabbed towards the slain squirrel, or rather, the orb of light inexplicably hovering above the sizzling corpse.
The orb pulsed with a mysterious purple glow, beckoning them closer with a silent siren song. A sweet, insidious hum filled the air, whispering promises of power, easy experience, and perhaps even rare skills and perks.
Priscilla's grip tightened on her rod, knuckles turning white. "O Cleansing Flame, hear my plea!" she chanted, her voice tight with barely suppressed panic. "Banish this taint, set us free! [MightyCleanse]!!!"
A bolt of holy light erupted from the rod, slamming into the orb with all the divine power Priscilla could muster. The party watched with bated breath, expecting an explosion of unholy energy.
Instead, silence. The orb simply… shrugged off the attack, the purple light blinking once in amusement. The adventurers were left speechless, their surprise rivalled only by the priestess's burning cheeks and murderous glint in her eyes.
"O Cleansing Flame, hear my plea…" Priscilla began again, her voice trembling with fury, but a calm hand landed on her shoulder.
"Priscilla!" Holly scolded gently. "Don't waste your MP. I don't think it's what you think it is. Take a closer look." She gestured towards the defiant orb.
"Yes, Holly's right," Del chimed in. "It's not uncommon for named monsters to drop something like that. Just a… monster drop." Her voice wavered slightly as the orb's seductive hum intensified.
"And it isn’t tainted or cursed," Edge added, his eyes gleaming with a greedy glint. "Thanks to your little exorcism attempt, that much is clear. But this is no ordinary loot." He fixated on the orb, his voice low and… edgy. "This, my friends, is the source of that creature's power."
Priscilla sputtered, her righteous fury momentarily deflated. "But… but it feels wrong! It has to be something bad!"
Holly's gaze remained fixed on the orb, a flicker of indecision warring with her usual pragmatism. "I agree, Priscilla. Its power is undeniable, and that makes it inherently risky. However, we can't just leave it here. Imagine if some other creature, something less… scrupulous, stumbled upon it."
Edge's response was a curt nod, his eyes gleaming with a covetous hunger. "Absolutely. We can't let such power fall into the wrong hands. We take it with us."
Priscilla relaxed her grip on her divine weapon, a sliver of logic breaking through her initial aversion. "I suppose you have a point. But something that… foul… I wouldn't feel comfortable carrying such a thing close." Her gaze darted towards Edge, a not-so-subtle accusation hanging in the air.
"Hold on now!" Edge bristled, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm all for studying its properties, but I wouldn't be caught dead carrying around a cursed artifact."
"So you too think it is Cursed!" Priscilla countered, exasperation colouring her voice. "Then by that logic, neither of us should touch it!"
Suddenly, Holly's eyes flickered towards Del, a glint of something akin to a plan sparking within their depths. "Del," she began, her voice carefully measured, "you're a Dark Elf, aren't you? Don't you have a natural resistance to some forms of dark magic?"
Del let out a defeated sigh, rolling her eyes. She knew where this was going. "Of course," she grumbled. "Doesn't mean I want to be a test subject for whatever chaos this thing might unleash."
But the die was cast. All eyes turned towards her, a silent plea hanging in the air. Edge vibrated with barely contained curiosity, Priscilla offered a hesitant apology in advance, and Khan, ever the picture of nonchalance, was busy inspecting a particularly impressive booger he'd picked from his nose.
With a resigned grimace, Del reached out towards the pulsating orb. Her fingers brushed against the swirling light, but instead of encountering solid matter, it felt like passing through a shimmering mirage. Yet, the light vanished nonetheless, seemingly absorbed into her palm.
"ChaosMote," she announced, her voice laced with bewilderment. "It… it's asking me if I want to absorb it."
A collective gasp escaped the lips of her companions. "Don't!" Holly cried out.
"Resist it!" Edge roared, his voice tinged with a hint of fear.
"You must not!" Priscilla shrieked, her earlier apprehension morphing into raw panic.
Khan, meanwhile, remained blissfully oblivious, his world seemingly confined to the fascinating microcosm of his fingernail.
Inside Del, the mote pulsed with an otherworldly energy, whispering seductive promises of power, transformation, and freedom. It tugged at her very being, a tempting hum that threatened to drown out her resolve.
"I will not!" Del spat back, unaware that her voice had risen to a shout. The exertion of resisting the mote's influence was immense, leaving her breathless and her skin slightly singed. Singed? Apparently, even righteous anger could manifest as a form of powerful magic.
"Hey! Priscilla!" Del yelped, wincing at the stinging sensation on her skin. "I said I didn't! I did not give in!"
“I thought your resistance might fail,” Priscilla offered a sheepish apology. “Don’t mind me and my stray spell. No harm done, right?”
Edge, despite the gravity of the situation, couldn't help but let out a chuckle, the absurdity of the scene momentarily breaking the tension.
Del, however, remained on guard, her mind reeling from the encounter. The mote remained within her, a silent, ominous presence. The question now loomed large: had she just become the keeper of a powerful artifact, or had she unwittingly become its prisoner?
"Thank you, Del," Holly murmured, her voice laced with something that could have been gratitude or something far colder. A hand, cool and surprisingly strong, squeezed Del's shoulder briefly before Holly turned and strode towards the sliver of sunlight at the edge of the cavern.
Del, left alone for a fleeting moment, felt the renewed presence of the mote within her. It thrummed with a low, insistent pulse, the whispers returning with renewed vigour. This time, though, they were different. The promises were sharper, laced with a hint of urgency. Obey. Consume. Ascend.
Del gritted her teeth, picturing the barrel. Mentally, she shoved the promises into that metaphorical barrel, slamming the lid shut with a metaphorical clang. The whispers sputtered and died, leaving behind an unsettling silence.
“I will not…” she spoke again, in a whisper this time.
Then she rejoined her companions, who had emerged from the cavern and were now staring out at the unexpected obstacle before them. A sheer drop on one side, a vast expanse of water on the other, and their only escape route seemingly blocked by the darkness they had just escaped.
"Del?" Holly's voice snapped, sharp with accusation.
Del met her gaze unflinchingly. True, they were trapped on a rock outcropping, seemingly stranded in the middle of nowhere. But panic wouldn't help.
"This way," she declared, pointing towards a set of intricately carved steps clinging to the cliff face. "Up the stairs." Confidence laced her voice, a subtle reassurance for her companions. After all, her PathFinder skill had never led them astray before.
She will lead them to their goal. To the very end of their quest…